


A Butterfly Can Flutter Its Wings In Other Dimension And Cause A Hurricane In Edo

by DissociatingGhost



Category: Gintama
Genre: Gen, Haunted Houses, M/M, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Acceptance, feel free to correct, or are they?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2020-12-27 20:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21124985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DissociatingGhost/pseuds/DissociatingGhost
Summary: The house is haunted, that’s for sure.Just his luck.That day’s horoscope mentioned something about disrupting a stagnation, awakening something buried, but he thought it meant getting a job, he couldn't remember how many times he had read the same Jump over and over again, he would mark it on the wall like modern Robinson stuck in a lonely world of procrastination, but for that he needed to get up from a coach, so, obviously, he didn't.





	1. When Ghost Hunting Don't Forget To Bring Your Own Food

**Author's Note:**

> Rather not too heavy and probably full of mistakes, so you have been warned.

What a pity, such a bright young thing and all alone, ploughing a lonely furrow in a disarranged yukata. Well, yeah, maybe his hair is so so, to put it mildly, like some old man's who wouldn't get it up even if he tried like a man possessed, and it's true, he looks like he just fell out of his bed, somewhere in a filthy den, but it doesn't matter, she could always be blind or not entirely right in her head, or simply in love with him, and somehow they would make it work. 

Lastly, she thrusts a 500 yen note into his hands, in the same manner as a grandmother who deals with her disappointing grandson, while she clearly prefers his older brother, but a family is a family is a family, she has to put up with his failureness, and suddenly Kagura stops cackling somewhere in the background and tackles him, loudly lamenting about her indebted son, ungrateful and uncaring for his ill mother, rips his pocket money from his strict grandmother away.

Oi, oi, he just wished to find out what their job was, not to find himself in a Saturday afternoon soap opera, where he was harassed by his mother and grandmother both at the same time. A role of the main character in Gintama was enough, thank you very much, but they don't listen, a stormy exchange about different genres of TV shows continues for a while and some time passes before they know a reason why she came looking for them, Jack-of-all-trades, Yorozuya, this sunny October afternoon. 

Apparently, they need to find a chest left in her old house, nowadays abandoned and empty. 

The task seems to be very simple, so a question why she couldn't do it on her own comes to mind, along with other - where a sudden sentiment comes from. He shoots them at her, but she dodges them, almost as skillfully as Neo dodges bullets fired at him, except that tight fit and a long black coat wouldn't really suit her. 

It's not the same as it was in previous years, she says, who knows the condition of the house, she won't risk a hip fracture, do they want her to risk it? If not, what are those questions for? Maybe they want a cookie instead?

They want a cookie, actually, they want a plate full of them, in a race Swallow-It-And-Grab-The-Next-Before-Kagura-Does-It he misses the fact they still don't know what they need to find in the chest, the same way a strange old woman's certainty that whatever-it-is, it's still here, at that moment escapes his attention.

The latter becomes more apparent to him when they set off to the house. The reactions of passersby asked for directions present a wide range of hostility - from spitting through swearing to calling them names, fruitcakes and wackos, who are asking for trouble. He can spare it for them, coincidentally, he has a basketball bat on hand, what about smacking them in the head, thank you very much, what a lovely gentleman, stick a needle in your eye, we are only here for a work.

The house is haunted, that's for sure.

Just his luck.

That day's horoscope mentioned something about disrupting a stagnation, awakening something buried, but he thought it meant getting a job, he couldn't remember how many times he had read the same Jump over and over again, he would mark it on the wall like modern Robinson stuck in a lonely world of procrastination, but for that, he needed to get up from a coach, so, obviously, he didn't. 

Turns out it's all about a good ol' ghost, who surely has no right to exist, the neighbours are a little disturbed, that's all, that's what happens when you are poor and drink too much. Collective hallucinations happen. Apparently, blue mice and pink elephants went out of fashion, which is not surprising, he never liked their long, hairless tails.

"Hallucinations, eye disorders," he sings under his breath when the house, a goal of their journey, appears in front of their eyes.

Maybe a term The House was more suitable, all capital letters, after all, it seemed to mark its own presence with its overwhelming size, huge semicircular windows like eyes glistening sinisterly, surrounded by an abandoned garden straight from a Victorian tale - with old stone monuments overgrown with ivy and all that gothic jazz, which in unknown way happened to be in the middle of Edo.

Just like a straight man in the first bench, stabbing the air over and over again with his raised hand, a presence so jarring to everyone around.

For a moment he wonders whether it would be easier to find the chest if everything else was burnt down, but nooo, they don't know is the chest heat-proof or not, they have to look for it manually, Gin-san.

Patsuan, what would we do without you, he parks his scooter beside a scraggly hedge, woody and unkempt, ignores the ominous squeak of a rusty gate and enters the property.

Even the air seems to be different here - denser, grave, imbued with a fear, the echoes of children's screams long silenced - ah, no, the latter one was on the set of movie IT, he is so relaxed that briefly he felt being at home, watching TV, haha, but for some reason, kids don't look convinced.

Dry leaves scrape under their feet as they slowly approach the building.

When they stop in front of him, they forget that behind them are the lively streets of Kabukicho, which never sleep - here, the world suddenly shrinks to this one garden with an abandoned house.

It seems to be in some distinct dimension, where its overwhelming presence distorts spacetime and everything here is more grim, so distant from Edo.

Wherever they look, there are signs of the passage of time and decay - a double-winged front door is red with rust, flaking paint peels from the walls, revealing darkened wood underneath, the withering weeds grow in its gaps, here and there moss greens.

Somehow it resembles a long-suffering creature, now slowly drifting away.

"How long ago did she move out of here?! W-what if the floor collapses?" Shinpachi asks, and you can almost pretend he did not stutter. Almost.

"Ha, more sukonbu for me!" Kagura is the only one who seems to be unimpressed, taking her survival for granted, damn alien, without delay she makes for the door.

How thick is the skin of Yato? Doesn't she feel an unsettling ambience of this place, long forgotten and existing on its own?

Still, they can only trail after her. A job is a job, whether it involves chasing after lost animals, or fighting with demonic house ( please don't).

The door opens with a lengthy groan, which was definitely heard throughout all The House.

Whatever lived here, it knew, that they had come.

It's a pleasure to meet you too, mice and cockroaches, as nothing else could live in such a place.

Floorboards creak under their feet, with their every step dust rises up, Maxwell Jackson Lovecraft, they sneeze, in the dim light they can see the outlines of some old furniture, some pieces of it covered with moth-eaten sheets.

They have to manoeuvre carefully, his right big toe still hurts, after he bumped it into something metal lying on the floor, something that resonated clearly and loudly like a bell. He didn't feel like taking off the dusty cloth to find out what it actually was. In that way, he would just scuff up a cloud of biological weapon, with mites screaming in Latin and possessed spiders.

You can never be sure what you will find in such a place.

It didn't look like a chest anyway.

Suddenly, Kagura walking in front of them stops.

"Shinpachi, don't you feel like checking _ together what's_ upstairs?" Pointing to the winding staircase, she asks with such an innocent voice, that it makes his skin crawl. She was just about to stir some trouble up.

"Gin-chan is well-rested after spending all our money on pachinko, he can handle looking around this floor and a basement on his own, _ all alone _."

Ah, damn, she is still angry about it. He should have expected that, she could forgive you an attempt to take her life, but not an attempt to take her meal away.

"I'm sorry again, but is it really such a crime that I believe in a better future for us and I unyieldingly fight for it in different measures?" He asks rhetorically with the bitterness of an underrated person, mainly turning to Shinpachi, who was less driven by revenge in the name of an empty stomach. Usually.

"Had you paid our overdue payment, we would have already a better future," he answers with a tone of a cool Arctic air, his glasses glisten ominously. "Be careful what you touch. We don't know who died here or what is cursed."

A fatal hit! Damn!

He would have been impressed by Shinpachi's ruthlessness if it just hadn't concerned him and with a lump in his throat he didn't watch them go away, leaving him alone among the old furniture and kami knows what, what was hiding in this dust, was nourished by it or was _it. _

Through the eyes of imagination, he sees a powerful being, creating itself from thousands of tiny particles that are spread over the entire surface of The House. At any moment it can congeal, take any shape as it pleases, pour itself through his nostrils into his throat and strangle him or tear him apart.

It was a well-known fact that ghosts and he didn't go hand in hand.

Mostly because the former didn't exist. 

He had already opened his mouth, almost shouted to them to stop fooling around, he could handle their righteous vengeance all right, it's just better to stick together in an unknown territory, but then Kagura turned around with a smirk on her face, so even if he had to die right here right now, skinned alive, his pride wouldn't let him run after them. 

He picks his nose and shakes off non-existent booger in their direction.

What a sadistic litter of little devils he is raising. He doesn't want to mess with Otae, should he write to her father then? Something like a letter from a concerned counsellor regarding one of his pupils, his daughter, who in the difficult period of adolescence displays the reprimandable amount of aggression and pettiness.

The previous day he and Sadaharu had a debate on this subject, and even that bottomless pit agreed that a starvation diet every now and then is good for improving well-being, distracting oneself from mundane things and generally increases vigour. Attention, he quotes: "Woof woof, wooof woo-f woooof w-oof wwoof wo!@#$%f w**f ****." The rest of the speech was incomprehensible due to the prolonged howling, but the overall idea is clear.

He doesn't want to be that old lady, who with an ugly frown on her face says "What kind of child is that", but if he has to be her, so be it, he will stuff a wheeled bag with groceries and will tie kerchief crookedly around his head, because this takes the cake, the one he likes, what's going on in this world, during his days children should be seen, but not heard, also, she doesn't want to share toys with other children and doesn't eat carrot, what he is supposed to do?

A dull thud sound in the ceiling makes him jump, Kagura's muffled laughter brings him back to reality, in which he is viciously left alone among the haunted furniture, and all he can do is find the chest first and go for payment without a word.

A motivation good enough to push to the back of his mind, a bit overcrowded, but will do, every memory of every horror story he ever heard. And totally dismiss the fact that at least half of them took place in an abandoned house and just focus single-mindedly on searching.

He looks around, trying not to hold his gaze on anything particular too long, in the name of the wise saying that what the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve over. In the dim light of the spacious vestibule, he sees three doors - one opposite from the entrance, two others on the right and left side of it.

He chooses the middle door, and_ of_ course, it doesn't open, something heavy blocks it from the inside.

He gives it a harder shove and almost falls face-first on the floor, straight into a pile of ashes, when the door swings open, but he regains his balance just in time, only trips over some old boots. 

In others words, he bursts into a room scuffing up a cloud of dust and ash, therefore, only after a while, when he stops sneezing again, through watery eyes he sees a jewellery box on a chest of drawers.

A narrow stream of daylight falls through a crack of a boarded window, lightens up tiny particles floating in the air and finally falls upon the beautifully carved wooden jewellery box.

His initial annoyance over some barefoot smoker is all forgotten, some smokers annoyed him, nothing new, at this moment he can't take his eyes off that box, it's the only object clearly visible in this half-light and is there a note next to it?

Maybe their client had in mind this jewellery box, not a chest?

Had he played Indiana Jones, red alert would be announced. The box' location was way too convenient, too well-lit, so luring to reach over, but he doesn't play that character, he is permy samurai who doesn't have two pennies to rub it together. If any arrows were to shoot from the walls, they would be rusty like all The House, while alligators were unlikely to count on, which is a pity, really, he got a bit hungry, all in all, he comes near.

  
_ Do not touch. Most of all, do not turn the knob three times clockwise. _

  
Above mentioned text is inscribed on the note beside the box, which, indeed, has a knob. 

He turns it, three times clockwise.

Samurai lived according to their own rules, not ones stated on notes in abandoned houses. It would be troublesome, to consult each your action with the corresponding one. Urbex didn't quite suit him, too many wandering Madaos in the weirdest places ready to fight you for life and death to protect their cardboard box, let alone the note supposedly showing you the way of life. They probably would start selling them for the price of a Dom Peri bottle, and he couldn't afford it.

Also, it was asking for it, using cheap reverse psychology tricks in such a tsundere style, it was almost endearing. He just kindly fulfilled someone's request.

For a moment, nothing happens, just when he starts thinking about looking for the chest, he feels that he becomes lighter, weightless even, and his feet leave the ground. Before he can grab something to anchor himself, the jewellery box' lid opens. Suddenly he sees stars and nebulae, asteroids and meteorites, very distant galaxies, and there is a vortex in his stomach that pulls him towards it, and he disappears in it with a loud slurping sound.


	2. Time Is A Rollercoaster Ride Which  Eventually Crashes To The Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow it just has to be a bit silly.  
Forgot to mention earlier, it happens somewhen after 316 ep, with a few tiny references to Shinsengumi Farewell and Soul Switch arc later on.

Totally not recommended, 2/10 would not ride again, there are flashes of light, and everything spins; the driver is drunk and refuses to share a drink with him; feeling his stomach drop, as if they were riding steep downhill switchbacks, him hanging off the backseat of the scooter with Sadaharu behind the wheel, he falls flat on his face, on something wet and slippery, what feels like cold ceramic tiles.

What_ is_ a cold ceramic bathroom tile, he notes as he carefully sits upright and dizzily looks around a bright room, lastly scrutinizing a humanoid Amanto, lazily stroking the tiles near a long row of urinals with yellow antennae in his head. Who, judging by the popped out veins, is well on the way, maybe even highway, to losing his temper.

"What's wrong with you?!" the alien starts yelling his head off as soon as he sees him and flecks of green saliva spill around. "I clearly asked not to enter, why are you doing this to me?!"

"_Oh_, I'm sorry," he courteously averts his gaze from the antennae, but this seems to enrage Amanto even more.

"Why did you look away?! What do you think I'm doing?!" he keeps screaming bloody murder while shaking some bottle in his hand.

"Who am I to judge different aliens' anatomy," he murmurs in answer, slowly standing up. Did he just teleport_ here_? _Why_?

"I'm only cleaning here! That's what I do!" the grouch doesn't seem to listen." You, on the other hand, barge in here like an illiterate barbarian you are and keep intruding upon my work - that's what you are doing! How many times I have to leave a note saying that the toilet is temporary out of service?! You all keep bursting in like it's your birthday party and it's okay to leave dirty marks behind, but let me tell you - it's my birthday all year round and-"  
"Maybe if you hadn't left the note, nobody would have known there is a possibility of using it?" he suggests cutting him off, what wasn't the best move, judging by his expression.

"I have to go, "he adds, and before Amanto could spitefully spit out his lung on him, what he was about to do if his purple face was any indication, he darts with dignity towards the door.

Then he falls again.

However, he doesn't land on the ground, his fall lasts for a strangely long time, when after the moment he still can't feel the impact of very close meeting with hard concrete, he opens one eye, then the other.

He is drifting in the air, floating in a white void, no ground or walls, and there is a group of Amanto near him who walk casually in the air, like they were standing in for some Dragon Ball characters, staring at him judgily.

"I can't swim," he says and ostentatiously tries out front crawl stroke, as if he was practicing swimming, deliberately came here for that, through the abandoned house and the cranky cleaner to this endless agoraphobic space, to learn how to swim.

So what, maybe he was one of those who while hiking in front of strangers would pretend not being short of breath, heavy panting - that's not him, he didn't just try to spit out his insides, he enjoys a breathtaking view, no pun intended, what a feast for the eyes, he would have one for the stomach too, tea party or something else equally distinguished, but he forgot his teacups, he is totally not choking on air while holding his sped up breath, he is samurai, after all, sue him.

Amanto lose their interest in him and return to their interrupted conversations.

Ha, a bunch of babes in the woods, with antennae and strange robes, as if learning to swim was his priority, for years he couldn't put it down in his schedule between reading Jump and eating parfaits. No void of another dimension could change that, he slowly lowers his legs, focusing on thinking about the floor he finds his footing quite quickly, and soon enough he walks around freely.

It's more peculiar feeling than crossing a glass bridge over a chasm, in some strange way it unnerves him, but he will not give a monkey's, that would piss off Kyuubei, after all, there is a reason he is called an apathetic bum with the eyes of a dead fish.

There is nothing like turning an insult into your personal accomplishment, with well-lit diplomas strategically hanging on the wall and medals subtly located in front of the entrance. A congratulations certificate, it's an honor to attest, while meeting all requirements, that angle of twist of his hair is just exceptionally permy, and an apathetic glint in his eye is just dead. He breathes it out like zombie morning breath, congratulations; he is not at all bothered that the bathroom is also drifting in the white nothingness, Amanto are gathered along with colorful stalls which somehow are hanging in this state of weightlessness, stretching endlessly to the white horizon underneath the white sky.

This confirms his earlier suspicion that he is no longer at The House, it couldn't contain such a vast space. He really teleported to some other dimension. He could have expected that, too many arcs ago he had the one with some Amanto or theme straight from a sci-fi novel.

Above all this, floats neon sign "The Annual Fair Of All Time."

"It's a wordplay," someone says, and he turns around, his gaze landing once again on yellow antennae growing out of a head below, firmly attached to the humanoid torso, clothed in the outfit of a nineteenth-century butler from the salon of a wealthy lady. Alternatively, from the manor of some damned teenager who sold his soul for a demon.

"Saying "annual" and "of all times" in this place is at least ironic, isn't it?" the stranger looks at him expectedly, as if waiting for a polite laugh, but when he meets his apathetic gaze, which still needs that printed certificate, he sighs. "You don't know where you are, don't you?"

"Where am I?" he easily agrees.

"You rather need to ask when are you. The answer is - nowhere." Given reply is a gibberish talk of rabid drunk, he has to refrain himself from sighing theatrically as well.

"When? Nowhere?" his questions is followed by minimal raise of eyebrows.

"Exactly," Amanto smiles with evident satisfaction, like a cat who just discovered a bowl of whole milk. "One could say that you are ...." at this point the alien is leaning closer and lowering his voice dramatically, well, until he begins impassively picking nose, then he straightens up.

"... in a blink of an eye. In this fraction of a second, when it's dark, and you see nothing, which escapes us all unnoticeably. Have you ever thought about what happens with time when nothing happens? We're at that moment, in a crack of spacetime to which no one pays attention to. We are in the twinkling of the eye of all beings ever-living, before, nowadays and about to be born. One moment connecting us all and weaving all together, here and now, at this intersection of timelines."

This pseudo explanation makes little sense, but he pretends to contemplate it. "What if someone keeps their eyes closed most of the time? Or lost somewhere eyelids?"

Amanto goggles at him. "How does someone lose eyelids?" he asks in a slightly high-pitched voice.

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Could be sold on a black market to get money for curing an ill child."

"Why anyone would like to buy it?!" The misguiding, probably self-appointed, Void tour guide asks with growing astonishment, from which recovers before he can tell a story about this difficult to control power of setting things on fire with one gaze only, to which, in an unfortunate turn of events, someone's own eyelids fell victim.

"Ehm, anyway, now we are beyond the normal comprehension of the time, beyond any particular place, in the Void where no place and no time exists, but there is-"

"Oh, I know, The Annual Fair Of All Times," he butts in innocently, watching Amanto twitch his eye.

It was quite apparent he had a penchant for the dramatic and hated interruptions.

"Did I die?" he asks then casually because a space beyond any time or place somehow connotes only death.

"Not to my knowledge," his conversationalist snarls prissily in response and he feels this sudden cold retreating, taking its clutches from his entrails and burying itself somewhere deep inside of him, to re-emerge later on when he will be too tired and lonely.

"What am I doing here ?" he asks quite straightforwardly, suddenly he wants to check on Kagura and Shinpachi, to make sure he will manage to find the chest before them.

"Apparently, you accidentally used the portal leading here, to this secret place that only a few know about, which, theoretically, shouldn't exist. We have to constantly move around," the alien sighs, but after a moment he continues with resumed enthusiasm.

"Since you are already here, use this extraordinary opportunity wisely, it will not come twice, and look through our products carefully. Technically, for the benefit of them this place was created, for them we all here gathered risk, hm, the eventual end of the well-known world-"

"Hang on," he hoped he misheard, Amanto just didn't casually suggest the possible appearance of End Of The World trope, like it was some supporting character in lesser-known anime who nobody cared about. Oi, he was hungry and came here just to make a quick buck! Don't start randomly throwing all quarterbacks in his direction only because he happens to be the protagonist!

"On infrequent occurrence someone stands here twice. Or floats his other body parts here twice," The crappy tour guide is still being crappy, he explains it as if someone not wanting to return here was the most alarming part of his statement.

"Time flows here differently - it stops entirely for a duration of client's visit, but, unfortunately, nobody can get off scot-free. When you go back to your reality, it accelerates. A lot. It rebounds on a place of portal - remember the house through which you entered this dimension, ruined and decaying? "

Ahh, no, please remind him, it's not like an image of every haunted house ever visited was burnt forever in his memory, and-

"It was built last week. "

-here you go, welcome back, a cold shiver runs down his spine.

"Time is a rollercoaster ride rushing straight down from the Devil's Loop," the alien smiles satisfied with his own parallel, and then giggles, frickin giggles. "Only in this case it crashes to the ground."

"Say what?" he really hoped that perm has overgrown his ears and he didn't hear what he thought he had heard. If he heard what he thought he had heard…

"Oh, you get it, physical laws and all that, time overload is too overwhelming for the poor rollercoaster train and it simply can't take a turn, it collides with the ground, gets totally crushed, its spills into nothingness and nada, nechivo, nothing is left of it," Amanto outstretches his arms with a smile, as if talking about the tragic fate of rollercoaster brought him personal joy and satisfaction.

For a moment he sees only red.

"You rotten sadist! What if the rollercoaster has kids who are waiting for him!? Or frickin huge dog to feed?!"

-or an old hag, who he promised protection, an old friend who according to the laws of evolution should be long dead, but somehow successfully leads a revolution, and a bunch of tax-thieves who need a constant reminder that their services don't satisfy everyone, they could do better, _he_ could do better-

Wait, what?

Did he just teleport himself to a frickin fair, where payment for participation was his own life? One point for the style, keeping it consistent, playing roulette with it all the time, but what was the point of buying anything?!

Amanto eyes him weirdly.

"Rollercoaster is just a bunch of metal things, it can't have an offspring or pet to provide for," he says slowly as if he was talking to a kid who one semester later joined the class and was lagging strikingly behind.

He suppresses a sudden urge to rip out his own perm hair, "It's you who started this lousy metaphor with the rollercoaster!"

The alien in the tailcoat shrugs his shoulders, not seeing any connection. "I like them very much, "he confesses. "It's fascinating that your kind came up with the idea of spending time in such a huge shaker, don't you think so?"

"No, I don't think so!" he cries out. Then, taking a deep breath, he asks more calmly," Once again, what will happen to me, when I come back to the Earth?"

"As I've already said, nothing."

He can't remember who he wanted to strangle so much lately. Bets on the surly bastard, somehow his scowl is the first thing that comes to his mind.

"Nothing will happen or there will be nothing left of me?" he drawls.

"The first case applies to the first return, the second one to the second," Amanto responds blithely, unaware of his murderous intentions.

"As I've already said, not a lot of people will visit this place twice. Only once it's possible to escape the burden and the inevitability of time. The place of portal absorbs the hit of it only the first time."

Huh, so he might live, this annoying cosplaying alien as well. Otherwise, he would have dragged him along with him to hell, holding on his antennae or the tailcoat, for no good reason, simply out of sheer spite.

"Although, from time to time such special case customers happen, "Amanto adds thoughtfully. "They know they are paying for this with their own life, but they are ready for this price as long as their purchase is getting delivered to their chosen ones. Loved or hated, nothing in between."

Unintentionally he raises his eyebrows and the fake butler smiles broadly like a Cheshire Cat, a strange smile that holds a secret.

"Are you wondering what product is worth this price? Go and look around. Don't rush, carefully look over our offer and you might find something that will change a life - yours or your close ones. Maybe you will be ready to pay the price yourself."

Once he said those words, Amanto leaves him in such a clear manner of introductory NPC for a troublesome quest, but he can't deny his piqued interest, even if this shady travel agency is not getting any positive reviews, it's true, it was intriguing to find out that some people were ready to die for some takeaway delivery, it could provide such a useful intel.

Apparently, the passage of time doesn't exist here, so he literally doesn't have to hurry anywhere. Even if he rarely felt obligated to do so, there is some kind of pleasure in this strolling leisurely with no guilty conscience but clean and bright new, no lectures of Shinpachi and complaints of Kagura, no counting eaten portions of pudding or days passed since the last job, for how long he is going to stay on the couch, he could get bedsores, fine, couchsores, either way, he is not going to treat them, he shouldn't expect that, could he check if he can find himself outside?

Eh, where is his collection of Jump issues when it's severely needed?

Slowly he approaches the fair.

Underneath" the Annual Fair of All Times" sign there is a small wooden board, floating in the air, on which he reads:

_Welcome, wanderer of the universe!_  
_Before changing your life forever or for eternity, remember our limitations - that way, the fate of the entire universe won't be altered irrevocably as well. Fluttering wings of a butterfly on the neanderthal Earth can shift the weather on post-modern Kouan, but it doesn't mean they should, don't forget that and you won't be charged and prosecuted accordingly._

_Fluttering wings of a butterfly on the neanderthal Earth_ …?

Should he feel offended on behalf of all earthlings, as their home was compared to the deserted and ruined excuse for the planet of Yato, which wasn't inhabited even by them, the strongest and most resilient race? What was that all about?

Flipping through some items presented on the stalls, he finally understands. He realizes why Amanto butler mentioned the possible end of the well-known world, why they are hunted down and need to be constantly on the move, why its name was ironic.

Here, in this void beyond any place and time, flourishes the black market of goods from various timelines.


	3. Nobody Have Ever Won A Lawsuit Against A Genie, Handle The Lamp  With Caution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of change in the mood, hope it makes sense.  
Apparently, The Hum exists o-O

First things first, she started casually, did he know the truth behind one of the biggest humanity's mysteries?

As an earthling he probably wondered over unexplainable construction of pyramids, didn't he? No, he didn't involve himself with such an overrated activity, he was busy questioning other things? For how long you can survive eating only sukonbu or how to make the most with the least effort? What is the exact amount of hungry pigeons needed to make a loss of rent look like a featherly accident? What if terms and conditions held an answer to-

Well, intriguing, but if he ever wanted to stop being a galactic dimwit, he would find out that those conspiracy theories about extraterrestrial origin have held a hint of truth.

No need to take offence, just listen, hon, when you can smuggle something from a different dimension, why not lightsabers, cutting effortlessly through rock and stone? Not to mention, so evenly that you could merge cut pieces with no trace of the piercing. Do not a lot of spears appear in the hieroglyph? They were farmers, they didn't need those, why would they hunt a crocodile, has he seen its thick skin, they simply couldn't resist a temptation to leave some marks of lightsabers behind, only had to camouflage them a bit.

A great example how purchase at their market could change entire civilization, really.

What kind of face is that, what does he mean there are better ways to scam, no, it's not a cheap talk, and no one is pulling his leg, she is not a monster under his bed on the lookout for sticking out limbs, does she look like the one, how the hell it's a tricky question, anyway, why so distrusting, cupcake, it just illustrates how easy it was for them to get hold of high tech unknown to his times, come on, hasn't he heard about The Hum?

The steady thrumming sound resembling that of a diesel engine idling nearby, heard in various regions of Earth, does it strike a note? Nobody could identify it, but because of it some had trouble falling asleep, some moved from place to place or looked for exit sign at the bottom of a bottle, someone committed suicide, yet still, not a lot of people could wrap their heads around it, as only some could hear it.

The constant buzz, sometimes quietening down just to go up again.

Maybe she isn't supposed to say that, but frig it, he seems like a good fella, like one of those it's better to keep an eye on, to make sure he understands all the terms of a contract, before he drags you through the courts with a claim that the purchased tea turned out to be piping hot and he clumsily scalded himself, and it's their fault, so she is going to say it, cautionary, before he decides on his purchase - apparently one of their customers was involved with it; he had had a transfer at the Terminal on Earth, but in the end, he didn't reach his destination.

Accidentally, he lost his purchase - a whole series of tiny nanorobots that nestled themselves somewhere among people, chosen according to unknown parameters.

The customer met his end at the hands of a hotheaded Time Guardian, therefore even they couldn't reverse his death, the salesman wasn't captured, nobody spilt the beans, from where and when, from what abyss of spacetime he brought those nanomachines, so, for now, they are working among people, with unknown purpose and this unceasing soft buzzing, impossible to detect.

Well, back to the topic at hand, is there something he wishes for?

Something sentimental from the past like the handkerchief drenched with tears of his first girlfriend, when he had headed out to the war?

Assuming he had the one and she didn't burst with joy when she finally got rid of him, it happens to the best, maybe he wants to comfort himself with a little souvenir from the future, let's say, something convenient like a self-cleaning house, not that she is suggesting anything, nothing related to his appearance, why not simplify your life when obviously there were difficulties with doing some chores?

Why so twitchy, they are not high-maintenance, they can talk about price, later on, now, he shall think is there anything that slightly would change his life for the better, his or his close ones. Only slightly, as they do not want to risk a chase of Time Guardians, but sometimes one purchase can change so much, has she already told him about-

-no, nope, no no, he doesn't want to listen to her, no more stories about the pros of shopping in a different dimension, the air is stuffy, please install ventilation, he can't breath-

He punches the countertop.

Strongly.

Fancy glass dishes bounce, something clatters, and he hears someone bellowing, "Do we really need time travels, constantly to try to change something, can't we simply take responsibility for our own past?!"

Just after a moment he realizes it's him, raising a ruckus.

The saleswoman pauses in mid-sentence and stares at him with wide-open eyes, clutching some porcelain figurine to her chest.

Afraid.

He doesn't need to turn around to know that others are staring at him too, suddenly conversations ceased, and he can feel the heat of their appraising gazes, trying to burn holes in his yukata.

The warmth spreads over his neck, and he hears ringing in the ears.

He is instantly ashamed of this abrupt outburst and feels ashamed that he is ashamed, but mostly, what the fuck, he is startled and unnerved of his own out of character behaviour, what the fuckity fuck, it wasn't even tagged!

Gosh, it was embarrassing. And didn't make any sense.

As a moment ago he was all of a sudden unreasonably pissed off, with annoyance and anger flaring up inside him, like then when you are ready to jump down someone's throat for no reason, for one strange look, when there is something getting beneath your skin, an itch you can't scratch, but you want to, scratch it and scratch it, nothing else matters, just tearing your skin off, removing the scalp and tying it at the waist, and dancing cancan, because why not.

Suddenly he didn't contain himself, he was a trembling and an anger, and punching of the countertop, and then a feeling of shame and puzzlement, because this wasn't what he usually did, he wasn't this type of character, getting carried away with a moment, he had the eyes of a dead fish, not of a wolf, wounded and cornered, mad with pain, lashing out desperately, bleeding blood and unguarded emotions, no matter how beautiful this image was, he was the one waiting for death in a prison to which he had come himself, with no fight or resistance, just some insults and smartass comments.

Probably it wasn't very wise, starting tavern brawls with someone who knew much more about this foreign place which could turn him into the rollercoaster train crashed to the ground on his way home, but with every story clearly promoting the change of timeline, as if it was something like the change of hairstyle or clothing style - _ That's all you need to create your new me, don't miss the chance, subscribe now, make an appointment and change your life for happy ever after_ \- he felt the lump in his throat growing, something cold clenching his stomach and he was trembling, and trembling, unstoppably, even though no Amanto could see it - he had his usual apathetic face, the cold and trembling were inside of him.

Why did he have to face such a choice once more?

Why was it happening again?

Why the hell he was bothered by it?!

Where did it come from, this frickin trembling and feeling overwhelmed, this choking weight on his chest as if Sadaharu suddenly decided to take a nap on him?! Go back where you came from, he didn't order it, hadn't he gone through it already?! By what fucking right it was repeating again?!

It. Didn't. Make. Any. Sense.

After all, he was able to talk about it with Hijikata, about the choice made to protect two important things which in the end made him lose both, after all, he could feel a slowly blossoming warmth when him and Shinsengumi reminded him that he still could make others decisions and not to lose everything.

He finally could - after all those sleepless nights or the ones slept in a ditch or dark alley, where he could hide his shame more easily - he finally could thank someone equal for staying alive, for being able to take his help, side by side save their leader, in a way he couldn't his own, all those years ago.

He could be grateful and wait for someone's return, so, please, someone explain it to him, spell it out as if he was an illiterate living in a barn, raised by feral dogs, by what frickin right, under whose agreement - please, point out clearly, he needed to know who cut for sushi, he owed kids something good, after all - under whose approval he once again feels like he was on that hill.

For all that Amanto's rambling he understood one thing only - he is in a place that wants to force him to make a fuckingly grand decision, pregnant with consequences, forever affecting his past and future, while dressing all this in a beautiful package of The-Only-Occasion-Not-To-Lose.

Because being in such an_ incredible_ place, the intersection of timelines, which was giving him a _unique_ opportunity to _really_ change his life, move here and there a few things, in his past or future, only once, only now, how could he indifferently pass those stalls?

When drinking sometimes he still had visions of past events dancing under his eyelids?

How could he not try to think about what he could do differently?

If not for himself, then for Shinsuke. For others, with too many ghosts of close ones, dead because of some stupid, melodramatic disease.

But he can’t.

He feels sick by the idea. Almost repulsed.

It could seem that he constantly was making some decisions - how much he could spend on a daily dose of sweets to have enough money for him and Kagura to survive, what job he wants to take on and what to fight for, but the truth was a bit different.

For years his decisions didn’t reach far.

He didn't plan what he would be doing and eating next week, his decisions were concerned only about the here and now, acting according to his own samurai rules _at exact this moment_, ha, he even made this one of his mottos - didn't he used to tell that he didn't need skylines, he was busy protecting what was in front of him?

Therefore, he couldn't become an upstanding citizen, married with children and regular, prestigious job, the way it was appropriate and expected, and safe, neither a Joy rebel in Zura's revolution that demanded complete devotion.

He wasn't sure himself how on Earth he landed with Yorozuya and two kids in his permy hair, maybe it was only possible because he didn't plan it, you don't just casually plan an old hag similar to Orochimaru, a teen Yato living in your closet and fighting with you over the last pudding, and a naggy pubescent boy who cleaning sings dirty Otsu-chan's songs and looks with a hidden concern at you, what you pretend not to notice.

Once he felt that he was stuck in some paradox, at an impasse with himself reached who-knows-when - why only while fighting to defend his beliefs, only while being samurai, he could muster up something more, something more authentic and inspiring?

Why after that he was either drunk or playing pachinko?

Didn't it look like hanging onto anything, just so that he wouldn't be with himself alone for too long when he had nothing to fight for, nothing to defend?

Didn’t it look like a _compulsion_ to cling to something, almost obsessively, to some addiction?

Either eating parfaits until he felt too sick to move or reading Jump over and over again, or playing pachinko till he carelessly lost his monthly food rations, his and Kagura's, or drinking himself under the table, so he couldn't be sure if he really had slept with someone, or had just dreamt about it.

Back then he couldn't loosen up his grip on these meaningless things, to recast them and move on to something new, he simply couldn't.

He did not quite understand why, it was challenging to put in words, this hindering, pulling down feeling that the future didn't belong to him, maybe he didn't deserve it, or just wasn't a part of it, he still was partly on that hill and was about to shed someone's blood, all he had to do was decide at whom he would point his blade.

Nowadays, he didn't feel that way anymore, he didn't have an impression of stalling, coming to a standstill between the past and the future, in this suspension of life, grasping for anything with a feeling of unquenchable hunger, voraciously, not being able to take a step forward, craving for distractions, for something unattainable, kami- know-what.

Although in the eyes of a passerby, nothing had changed, he still has been drinking and playing pachinko, and was a lazy slob, but now he was the way he was, with Kagura and Shinpachi not letting to lose himself too long, he was meeting someone new all the time, and fighting in their names, and he lived.

At least he thought so most of the time.

Because, ah, actually, sometimes, when he couldn't fall asleep, and kids were over at Otae, he didn't know if something really has changed, has been there his own private arc on self-acceptance and moving on, or he was still stuck, but something inside him died with no farewell words and he didn't care anymore.

Maybe he hasn't changed at all, there were all kinds of wrongs in him, he simply wasn't getting the memo anymore.

In any case, he can't, doesn't want to, he refuses to ponder again over things that couldn't be changed, on most of the days he was okay with them, on others they quarrelled like an old married couple and just the same way it would end with silent days, but that was the way he wanted to face it.

Somehow he doesn't think that if by some miracle he took all pain and wrath of Takasugi away, the one-eyed bastard would be grateful, this would mean taking away something very personal, innermost, those were his own emotions and sufferings and bad decisions, his own only, and they became a part of him, that's the way he was, greedy and possessive and unapologetic, he wouldn't give any of that away, the prick would rather bite his helpful arm off, and they accepted that, even when they didn't agree with it, and he liked having both arms, thank you very much.

There was no possible positive significant outcome of some purchases and little changes to the past, he wasn't particularly sad or anything, didn't need anything cheesy or sentimental, and trying to make him think otherwise was tasteless like a spinach stuck between his teeth or a hair in his parfait, he would like to talk with a manager, this is clearly a grey hair, his are silver, can't he see, that's offending and hurting him deeply, free coupons for a whole year, please.

Drinking without burning in his throat, observing the kids grow doesn't make him an old grumpy man as well, as waiting for someone's return whose comforting presence he didn't plain either, the trust grew unexpectedly among fights and insults, and there were no refunds, besides, one does not simply return a freebie, even the useless one.

He is obviously okay; therefore, those emotions didn't make any sense, this anger and loss of composure, why suddenly old memories popped out of nowhere, what Dozaemon, that ugly cat mug, was doing.

Isn't he supposed to be lying around, purring and licking his balls like any decent cat would?  
Could he be still affecting his actions and thoughts like some annoying brain parasite, overstaying his welcome?  
Could he be stopping him from reaching out for -

He clears his throat. "My apologies, it's a lot to take in. I got overwhelmed by the wide range of your offer of useless things."

The middle-aged Amanto saleswoman doesn't seem to be startled anymore, she rolls her eyes at his blatant lie. "That's not a way to sugarcoat someone, hon, didn't you have any relationship to know better by now?" she doesn't miss a beat to jab at him shamelessly, then ads dryly," Although, in all fairness, it wouldn't help you now, we pledge zero tolerance for violence, as keeping this place stable is vital. There are guards already dispatched coming to get you."

" Ah, I shall take my leave then," he says sternly, because talking as stand-offish as possible is apparently a thing now.

" Just scram," she waves her hand.

Next thing he knows, he is maneuvering through the crowd, retreating his steps while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on anyone looking like a guard of stability of intersection of timelines, but he does it absent-mindedly, somehow it feels stilted, this reality and him being here, he can't shake off this feeling of being stumped, and probably he shouldn't be so surprised when someone grabs his wrist with ease.

He jerks his hand away, how the hell someone managed to creep on him like that, if Kagura knew, she would laugh her ass off, Patsuan would be just dissapointed, again, and-

" You are Yorozuya, aren't you?"

When he turns around, he sees a human, a tiny older woman with hair white and fluffy like a marshmallow.

There is a small wooden chest in her arms.


End file.
